8 September—First, an explanation. You didn’t see my daily dose over the fold yesterday. Not that anybody missed it, of course. I couldn’t access LitchfieldMonitor.com or even the web host’s website till late in the day.

I could, however, access the administrative website that would have allowed me to update the posts, but I didn’t know it at the time.

I have no idea what caused the glitch. I’d like to blame it on Altice’s Optimum broadband, but related glitches were also evident on other networks. So I remain digitally clueless. But I kept calm and carried on.

Now for today’s fun. If Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year, was welcomed in by the goniff momzer kludd-kleagle of Chabad Lubavitch’s Litchfield klavern blowing his ram’s horn on the green at 6:30, I certainly didn’t hear it from the firehouse, where I was at a selectmen’s meeting; but he did it.

The goniff momzer actually blew his shofar on the west green, as promised on the website. Of course, no one could confirm that the goniff momzer’s manifold sins were tossed anywhere—they’re supposed to be thrown into a body of water, of which there are very few within throwing distance of the green—because the Chabad kludd-kleagle is judgement-proof.

But rest assured, there are lots more where those sins came from.

That naturally takes us to the bad news for gamblers. Well, the bad news for the state, anyway. “Sports gambling delayed,” reads this morning’s Republican-American headline. It seems the state’s casino tribes are still waiting for federal approval before they can start their online gambling, so the betting sites can’t go online yet.

My heart goes out to the patient gamblers who are waiting for the opportunity to do it legally. Not really. Because most of them have been doing it illegally anyway, and the smart ones will continue to do it with their friendly local bookies. Why would they want to share their winnings with the taxmen?

Every town has its book and a book is far more trustworthy than the state. Maybe that’s why some of the most reliable customers of books are police . . .